Syndrome
by Liger-Jam
Summary: Any self-respecting doctor would rather go offline than join the Decepticons-right? Enter: Spotlight, your exception.
1. Double Vision

**Note: Good, you're here! Sit. Stay. (please? haha) This story can actually take place in either G1 or Movie-verse. So, whichever one you prefer, think of it that way. In terms of time, it takes place during the transition from Golden Age to Great War. (you see my reasoning? so yeah, either 'verse) Thanks for reading, in advance!**

**Big thanks to beta readers ****Tinna Minor ****and**** Puffi The Insane. **

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**Double Vision**

The Golden Age of Cybertron had some rusty spots. It was in those spots that Cybertron's undoing was conceived. Some ignored it, some tried to fix it, and some were consumed by it. As a roaming doctor, living cycle-to-cycle, Spotlight was forced to deal with all of them. He didn't like to stay in one place too long. Despite his profession, he disliked interacting with other bots. Especially the happy ones. He was a complicated bot who liked to repair things, not talk to them. That was the only part of his job he didn't like. He could deal with being elbow-deep in a wound gushing energon onto his faceplate; he couldn't deal with convivial motormouths. If he didn't relocate after a while, he was sure to develop a glitch

Currently, Spotlight found himself employed as Chief Medical Officer at a stadium in Kaon. It was known as the Scrap Bowl, and primarily hosted gladiator fights. There was constantly some sort of police presence at the Bowl, to ensure 'civilian safety', but Spotlight knew that they were just there to catch a fight. The doctor could tell at first glance that the local police force was full of mechs with energon boiling in their lines; itching for a chance to use their titanium knuckles legally.

Spotlight's current patient was a young gladiator that had just suffered his fifth loss in a row. Said patient was extremely depressed, to say the least.

"Who was it this time?" Spotlight asked, removing a piece of dented silver plating on the gladiator's chest.

"Sideways." the gladiator replied. "And that cheater used a shrapnel sword."

"Sideways." Spotlight spat. "This is great. Just what I need..."

"What's a shrapnel sword?" Torx, Spotlight's young medical assistant asked with a raised optic ridge. Torx was naturally curious and slightly vain. Surprisingly, though, Spotlight actually got along with him.

"This new weapon that has the same effects as a shrapnel bomb. Well, basically." Spotlight explained. "Find the tweezers, will ya?"

Torx went off to find said item, while the injured gladiator let out a pained moan. "Everyone keeps kicking my tailpipe, Doc. What's wrong with me?"

"I'm a doctor, not a psychiatrist."

"Aren't doctors supposed to have a good bedside manner?"

"Excuse me." Spotlight cleared his vocal unit, and then spoke in an uncharacteristically sweet tone. "Would you like an energon goodie, Mr. Gladiator, sir?"

From across the bay, Torx burst into laughter.

"Yo Spotlight!" he called. "That's a nice look for you."

"What _look_?"

"Oh, the 'Tender Nursebot' look, of course."

Spotlight chucked a pair of pliers in Torx's general direction. For the first time in a _long_ time, the fallen gladiator on the table smiled, albeit slightly.

The moment was interrupted when the med bay's monitor sprung to life. The bust of the owner of the Scrap Bowl appeared.

"Spotlight, please come to my office." he requested.

"Yes sir. On my way." Spotlight replied. The owner nodded, and the monitor returned to its blank stand-by mode.

Torx returned to the table with the tweezers in hand. Spotlight motioned towards the damaged area on the gladiator. "Tweeze out these bits of shrapnel, Torx. I'll be back in a click."

"'Kay, Doc." Torx nodded, turning to the patient. "Make sure you hold still, or I might slice something."

"That's comforting."

SoSoSoSoSoSoS

The owner's office had a perfect view of the arena. The owner himself very rarely watched the fights, but if he did, he'd have picture perfect seating.

"Prepped for the tournament?" he asked, standing next to his desk. It was recently polished.

"Yes sir. The medical bay is fully stocked and ready." Spotlight replied.

"Good. Your assistants should be here shortly."

"Yes sir."

"I must say, Spotlight, you've certainly earned your place here. My fighters don't loathe checkups for once. Even those freeloading cops like you." he smirked. "And yet...you don't want to renew your contract with us? Might I ask why my best CMO yet is choosing this path?"

"I'm moving to Iacon. I want to see what the new hospital there has to offer in terms of training." Spotlight answered. "My welding is a bit off."

The doctor knew his boss could tell he was lying. His welding was perfect; that's one of the reasons why he was CMO. Well, that, and because the last CMO was beheaded by a gladiator he rubbed the wrong way.

"Very well. You're free to go."

"Thank you, sir."

SoSoSoSoSoSoS

Spotlight and Torx stood outside the Scrap Bowl, watching the transports of visiting gladiators arrive, alongside the owner and other staff. Mechs of all sizes and levels of tenacity exited their transports, and entered the stadium that could very well become their last resting place.

One even blew Torx a kiss.

"Did...did that just happen?" the young medic bewilderedly asked. Spotlight shook his head in amusement, ignoring the strange gladiator and turning his attention to a different transport. A large gray mech just slightly older than the doctor himself was stepping off. He wore a scowl, and was proud to show it to anyone and everyone.

"_He looks familiar."_ Spotlight thought, but quickly shook the notion off.

"Woah." Torx nudged Spotlight's arm with his elbow. "Look at _those_ two."

Spotlight turned his head. A pair of twins stood among a group from a visiting stadium. They were mostly black in color, and had completely identical chassis. The only difference was in the small bits of color they had on their shoulders. One was yellow, the other red.

"Who're _they_?" Torx wondered aloud.

"Brothers from Titan Stadium." Spotlight replied. "I've patched up one of them before. Wouldn't shut up about how the type of solvent I was using was low grade."

"They look mean. Wouldn't want to bump into them in a dark tunnel." Torx said, to which Spotlight immediately replied, "Would you want to bump into any of these mechs in a dark tunnel? Come on, bolt head. Our obligation is done; let's get back to the bay. I don't want the 'help' poking around my tools."

Torx was mystified, and Spotlight indifferent, to see that the visiting medics were femmes. When the two returned to the bay, Spotlight almost bumped into Torx's stupefied form. The three visitors were chatting near a storage unit.

"Good evening." Spotlight greeted, after stomping on Torx's foot as a scolding. The femmes looked at the doctor. "I'm CMO Spotlight, and this is Medic Torx."

The femmes introduced themselves cheerfully. Lithium, Nightshade, and Sigma were all from Praxus. One could tell from the trio's distinctive doorwings. Lithium and Nightshade were silver and blue, while Sigma was mostly black and blue. Spotlight left the small talk to Torx, moving instead to watch the activity on the monitors. Not surprisingly, the stadium was packed. It was going to be a long night.

SoSoSoSoSoSoS

"So, you three are from Praxus, huh?"

"Yes. We work at the little clinic there." Lithium replied. "We don't get too much business, so our boss sent us here. I think he's friends with the owner of this stadium."

"You don't say? I actually met a genealogist in Iacon once that was studying the whole doorwing thing. He's trying to figure out why practically all of the bots sparked in Praxus have 'em."

Nightshade glanced at Sigma. "Maybe we were meant to fly?" the blue femme grinned.

"Ha! Yeah, maybe-!"

"Torx, c'mere." Spotlight interjected.

"Boss, I'm kinda busy here."

"Get over here."

Torx grudgingly walked over to Spotlight. "Yeah?"

"Tell me the Medical Unit's Oath."

"_Seriously?_" he groaned, to which Spotlight replied with a nod. Torx glanced back at the femmes, who were giggling quietly. "Ugh. 'I am a Medical Unit. I will protect and save life whenever possible. I will not use my talent to abuse power. I will prevent as well as cure illness. I will not be ashamed to call on a brother or sister unit for assistance, and will continue to learn from my brothers and sisters for as long as I am online. I am a Medical Unit first, a Cybertronian second; my medical service always comes before any other alliance, position, or personal avocation. As Primus as my witness, I do accept these terms.'"

Spotlight handed Torx a rag and a box of dirty tools. "Your medical service comes before personal avocation, Torx."

"You want me to _clean_?"

"Cleanliness is part of prevention. You think I'm gonna make these nice fembots do it?"

"Actually, that's usually what we do at the clinic." Sigma quipped. "It's so _dead_ there most of the time."

"No pun intended." Nightshade added.

SoSoSoSoSoSoS

The tournament was halfway into the first fight. Both gladiators proved to be especially good at dodging attacks, so the fight was becoming abnormally long. There was no short of excitement in the crowd, though...or of mischief.

"Ugh, some punk sprayed the camera with paint." Sigma grumbled. "Now how will we know when to go out?"

"Oh, you'll know." Torx said. "The fans really go wild when there's-."

Then, out of the blue, the crowd erupted into fierce cheering so loud it shook the walls.

"Speaking of wild...!" Spotlight started, tossing his wrench aside. "Scratch the cleaning, we've got work to do. One of you femmes come with me."

"I'll go." Lithium grinned, and walked towards the door. "Ooh, this is so exciting!"

When Lithium was at his side, Spotlight punched in the code to open the door leading to the arena. When the door opened, the two medics were met with a grinning pale yellow mech.

"Knock knock." he said, whipping out a blaster and thrusting it in Lithium's face. He pulled the trigger before she had the chance to scream.

The majority of her processor was blown to bits. Nightshade screamed as Lithium's limp, lifeless body toppled over. Energon trickled from a line once connected to her optical center.

"**Lithium**!" Spotlight gasped in utter shock.

"You want some too, Doc?" the intruder jeered, ramming the butt of his gun into Spotlight's abdomen. Spotlight, the wind knocked out of him, fell to the ground with a _thud_.

"Ooh, more_ beautiful_ ladies..." he continued with a simper, stepping over Lithium's body. Right before his optics offlined, Spotlight saw Torx step back and grab a hammer used for popping out dents in armor. Then everything went dark.

SoSoSoSoSoSoS

The next thing Spotlight saw was the ceiling of his tiny office.

"How in the Pit..." he grumbled, sitting up, "did I get in here?"

"Shh..." a voice beside him whispered. "They think you're dead."

Spotlight turned his head. Hiding under his desk was a white and blue mech with a strange red face. He was too scrawny to be a gladiator, Spotlight observed, but still looked like he could put up a decent fight. The mech slowly crawled out from under the desk and sat next to Spotlight.

"I thought you were dead, too." he added.

"Well, I'm not." Spotlight replied. So much was rushing through his processor. What happened after he blacked out? Where were Nightshade, Sigma and Torx? Were they even still online? Was Torx able to fight off Lithium's killer with that old hammer?

"How'd I get in here?" he asked, hoping for answers to these questions.

"You were in here when I hid in here. Then they came in to look for me, and said you were offline." he quickly replied.

"Who's 'they'?"

"...That...that's not important! The important part is making sure they don't get us!"

"You're not making much sense."

A loud _bang_ from the outside cut off their conversation.

"We have to get out of here!" the red-faced mech hissed, jumping up.

"Hold on!" Spotlight objected. "If we go out there, they---whoever they are---will see us. If we don't want to get caught, we'll have to stay here."

The red-faced mech slowly nodded.

"Alright..." he murmured, sitting down next to Spotlight.

SoSoSoSoSoSoS

The voices were muffled, but still audible. There were two of them.

"_This is where he disappeared?"_

"_Yeah. I dunno where he went."_

"_Why's it so fraggin' dark in here?"_

"_That doesn't matter. We just gotta find the glitch so we can get back to Vos."_

"_What about that office?"_

Spotlight froze.

"_Nah, nothin' but a scrapped medic in there."_

"_This is stupid. Who cares if a glitch ground-pounder gets left behind? I'm leaving."_

"_Slaggit, Skywarp, get back here! Motormaster's gonna be torqued..."_

Spotlight heard the two bots exit the med bay, hopefully, for good. Smiling, he turned to the other mech.

"Sounds like they left-" Spotlight started, but stopped when he saw the trembling state of the red-faced mech.

He was holding his head, shaking uncontrollably, and muttering to himself. "Following me...everything is following me! They're all out to get me!"

"What do you mean?"

"I've seen the Unmaker." he trembled. "I didn't want to offline; so I ran! I had to get away. He was going to get me! I had to get away."

"Calm down, calm down. It's alright." Spotlight smiled. "What's your designation?"

"Designation...Breakdown." he replied. "It's beginning, you know: the end of life as we know it! There's proof **everywhere**."

"No...I didn't know." Spotlight muttered. "Wait, you said that you saw the Unmaker? What do you mean?"

Breakdown looked around the room frantically. He spotted a small bucket of paint on a shelf and snatched it.

"Hey-?"

The paranoid bot ignored him, ripping off the lid to the bucket and dipping his hand in; now covering it in yellow paint. He stepped up to the nearest wall and began writing Cybertronian characters with his fingers. Each time he re-submerged his hand into the bucket, he threw a suspicious glance at Spotlight, as if he was worried the doctor would suddenly dissipate...or maybe even attack him. In what seemed like the blink of an eye, he had the majority of the wall covered.

"The Unmaker." Breakdown explained, putting the finishing touches on his work. "He showed me this. Read it! It's our undoing!"

Spotlight _did_ read it. More than once, actually, and in times before now.

"Are you sure it was the Unmaker that showed you this, and not a holo-projector?"

"How dare you say such a thing! Of course it was the Unmaker!"

The doctor sighed. "...I hate to break it to you, but this is an excerpt from the Covenant of Primus. You sure you didn't just back into a shelf and activate something?"

Breakdown growled. "I know what I saw. You're just too _stupid _to see it too!"

"Ok ok, no need to get all riled up. Where did you see this? I'll go check it out."

"Near the prep area." Breakdown replied. "But don't come crying back to me if you fall into the oblivion!"

"Trust me, I won't."

SoSoSoSoSoSoS

Spotlight tiptoed into the gladiator's prepping area. The entire back wall was cracked and damaged from a recent brawl, and most of the lockers had been broken into and raided. Luckily, the majority of the fighting seemed to be in the stands, arena, and area immediately outside the stadium. There was no sign of any holo-projectors..._yet_.

Rounding a corner, Spotlight froze at the sight of two mechs huddled in a corner; one noticeably wounded. They were the twins from Titan Stadium! The doctor hesitantly approached; he didn't want to startle the two and suddenly find himself missing a limb.

"Hey, is he alright?" Spotlight asked, cautiously stepping closer.

"Back off, or I'll rip your manifold out!" the red twin growled, snapping around and drawing a small blade.

"Calm down, it's ok. I'm a doctor." Spotlight reasoned. "I'm just looking around for-"

"A doctor? You can fix this?" he asked, turning to his brother. Spotlight took a better look at the wound. It was worse than he originally thought. Energon was leaking everywhere due to a ruptured fuel line close to his spark chamber.

"Hey...you're the cheap solvent medic." the yellow twin observed, wincing slightly. "I hope you've upgraded the place since last time..."

"Ok, gladiator. Help me get your brother to the med bay." he requested of the red mech.

"So you can fix him?"

"I'm gonna try."

SoSoSoSoSoSoS

A bulb on Spotlight's shoulder illuminated the dark, abandoned bay. His office door was open, which meant Breakdown left; either that, or he was now a maimed chassis behind his desk. Tools and berths were in disarray from all the commotion. His new patient was on the only exam table in the room that hadn't been turned over or sliced in half.

"That's some bright light, Doc." Sideswipe, the red twin, commented.

"You think they call me Spotlight because it sounds pretty?"

"Can we focus on me, here?" his patient, Sunstreaker, weakly requested.

"Right. Hand me that kit over there, please."

"I'm gonna get those stupid Decepticons. I'm gonna rip them to shreds." Sunstreaker repeated. "They'll wish they were never onlined once I find them. I'm gonna get them. I'm gonna get them good."

"So that means you're going to join the Autobots, then? Good." Spotlight nodded, replacing one of Sunstreaker's shredded fuel lines with a new one.

"Yeah, but..." Sideswipe started.

"But what?"

"But 'Autobot' is such a _boring_ name."

"You'd join a faction just because of its _name_?"

"Pit yeah. Why do you think we joined Titan Stadium over the Scrap Bowl?" Sideswipe replied.

"Hang on. Didn't we see Sideways in the group of lowlifes that attacked us?" Sunstreaker inquired of his brother.

"Yeah! We did!" Sideswipe nodded. "No way we're gonna be on the same team as that loser. He actually tried to use a shrapnel sword on us!"

Spotlight smiled. It was a completely made-up excuse, but it worked for him.

SoSoSoSoSoSoS

He finished repairs as soon as Sunstreaker could walk on his own. The twins immediately left, saying that there were too many bots out there that angered them now (they liked to keep it at a maximum of three at a time, and it was well over that at the moment); so they had a lot of work to do. Spotlight didn't mind. He knew they were on the right path now.

A small rumble shook the floor. The remains of the med bay's monitor fizzled. Its small speaker unit suddenly came to life, catching his attention.

"_Decepticons, rise up!"_

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**More Note: TBC! **

**"Just think, right now as you read this, some guy somewhere is getting ready to hang himself."**


	2. Endangered Species

**Note: A wild MUSE appeared! KAPU37 used WRITE! KAPU37's attack missed! Wild MUSE fled! KAPU37 cried. **

**^^^That was what basically happened between when I posted the first chapter and now. That, and school kept kicking my butt. I apologize.**

**Thank you to beta reader R. Herring!**

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**Endangered Species**

On Kaon's outer borders, the second-largest clinic in the area was receiving its own check-up. Two medical officers from Iacon Medical Center, the largest in all of Cybertron, were assessing the state of the clinic and the professionalism of its employees. So far, it had gone well.

Siren, one of the nurses, sauntered over to the younger officer as he checked over the clinic's main computer.

"So. You return to Iacon next cycle." she stated, leaning against the counter next to him.

"That I do." he replied, optics still glued to the screen.

"Gonna give us a good review?"

"You'll find out in the media files."

Siren leaned in close to his face. As she traced along his Autobot insignia, she purred, "How 'bout you go ahead and tell me now?"

Slowly, the officer turned to face her. He grinned, "well, when you put it that way..."

"_Override!_"

Siren jumped back, and the medic spun around in his chair. A stout, white medic stood behind them with his arms crossed and a disappointed frown on his face.

Override rolled his optics at the sight. "Come on, Ratchet. I was just-"

"Getting back to work."

"...Yeah, that."

Override turned back to the computer, as Siren absconded out the back door.

"Well, looks like this place is going to need a new senior nurse." Ratchet said.

"Don't be like that, Ratchet." Override replied. "It's not like she broke any rules."

"Is your processor screwed in too tightly?! You know revealing grades early is prohibited!" Ratchet scolded.

"You're way too old school."

"Listen here, young bot-!"

Ratchet would have thrown the book at the young medic, had it not been for the timely arrival of two femmes through the main entrance.

SoSoSoSoSoSoS

Nightshade was bawling so heavily that her systems heaved with stress. She could barely stand on her own due to a severe injury on her leg. Sigma, oddly calm, steadily supported her as she laid Nightshade on a nearby examining table.

Barely coherent, Nightshade wailed, "Lithium, Lithium! She didn't even have a chance! That monster didn't even give her a chance to run!"

"What happened?!" Ratchet exclaimed.

"A revolt broke out at the stadium." Sigma replied.

Nightshade was still crying.

Ratchet stepped back. "The gladiators revolted?!"

"Yes. Nightshade's sister was killed by one of them. We were lucky and managed to escape, but many others weren't as fast. Strangely," Sigma added "many more femmes than mechs were offlined in the streets."

"So it's true." Ratchet sighed grimly, bowing his head. "Primus. I didn't want to believe it, but it's happening."

"What...what do you mean?" Nightshade cautiously asked, sniffling.

"The Decpticons are making their move." Ratchet explained. "Prime was right. They're starting a purge."

"Prime? As in _Optimus Prime?_" Override exclaimed, and then added quickly, "Oh boy."

**10 Vorns (830 Years) Earlier**

Within the confines of an uncouth Praxian apartment, a small metallic quadruped popped its head up out of a drawer, gazing at Spotlight with wide yellow optics. It let out a high pitched '_yip'_ before jumping out of the drawer and onto the tabletop.

The medic peered into the open drawer. The datapads inside were covered in dirty paw prints.

"Now I know why your species is a preferred by nine out of ten hunters." he muttered, shutting the drawer. The animal, most commonly known as a turbofox, innocently hopped off the tabletop and into Spotlight's arms. Spotlight noticed that its breath reeked of his favorite treat.

"You know, I _did_ save you from the scrap yard. The least you could do is stay out of the energon goodies." Spotlight placed the animal gently onto the tabletop. "I think it's time to give you a name."

The turbofox sniffed the objects on the table curiously.

"How do you like Quicksilver? No, too common. Moonlight? Too close to my name. Diode? Now that's just silly."

The turbofox, much more interested in the stack of data pads on the table, pawed at them playfully. One too many powerful swats later, the entire stack came crashing down, with most landing on Spotlight's feet. The turbofox scurried away in fear, its paws slipping at first due to the lack of friction on the table.

"I think I'll call you Decoy." he nodded. "It rhymes with _annoy._"

SoSoSoSoSoSoS

Spotlight's comm. link came alive just as he settle down in front of the news feed.

"_Ring ring ring!"_ a peppy male voice exclaimed over the link. _"Calling all cars! ...That means you, Spotlight."_

"Thanks for clearing that up."

"_Woah, I catch you at a bad time, Doc?"_

Spotlight sighed. "To what do I owe this pleasure, Frostbite?"

Frostbite was one of the medical dispatchers part of the hospital Spotlight worked for while in Praxus. Spotlight was currently working house calls; hence Frostbite's call. The doctor could hear the grin in the seeker's voice. _"Oh, it's nothing apocalyptic, but the Police Chief's femme has a virus, or something. You know how he gets."_

"Why're you sending me out to him? Send out one of his Praxian buddies; I'm sure he'd prefer them over a wingless old mech like me."

"_I dunno; aren't you the mech that likes variety in his life?"_

"Yes, and you know how much I just **love** the local police."

"_Is that an allusion to that time you got too overcharged at the bar, and the Sergeant had to come throw you out?"_

"Primus in the Pit, do you have to bring that up **again**? Vector Sigma, it's not enough that the chief resident had to be there so he could tell all his little med-in-training pals..."

"_Scrap, Spotlight. Every cycle, it's the same thing. Gripe gripe gripe. When was the last time you got laid?"_

"Well, I've lost track. Why don't you go ask your creator?"

"_Ooh, low blow. Fine, your grouchiness, I'll let you get to work."_

"I'd appreciate that, Frostbite."

"_Uh-huh. Here's the coordinates. Have fun."_

SoSoSoSoSoSoS

Spotlight didn't like the center of Praxus, but it was the only direct route to his patient. It was also crowded; crowded with impatient young bots in alt mode stuck in traffic, dainty femmes with their loud sparklings begging for a toy, and pushy merchants haggling with customers over fuel prices. It was also crowded with something that Spotlight hated even more: memories. He didn't like "reminiscing" or participating in nostalgic conversations of "the good old days" and how much better it was in the past than now. He lived in the moment. He knew that, in the future, they'd all be talking about how much better this day was, just like they do now. He didn't see the point in it all.

He didn't like it, and he couldn't escape it. As he toured the town, the inevitable familiar faceplates and smells toyed with his memory banks. He thought of his first call in the city. A youngling had severed an energon line as he messed around the crystal gardens. It was a quick fix, but energon was everywhere, and Spotlight remembered thinking himself more of a cleaning drone than a doctor. The youngling didn't even say "thank you," he just ran off with his friends, back to their apartment. Ingrates.

After wasting time in traffic jams, Spotlight finally reached the neighborhood that the Chief resided in. It was much nicer than Spotlight's neighborhood, being that it was designed to primarily house young families and wealthy businessmechs, while his neighbors were mostly drifters. No doubt the Chief chose to live here to be "closer to the heart of the city," or some gobbledygook like that. But Spotlight cast all his prejudges aside as he approached the door. He was a doctor now, and doctors do not judge.

He was about to knock when he noticed a quaint little door chime, and decided to press that instead. An answer came practically immediately.

Spotlight straightened his posture as the door opened. A serious-looking mech stood before him, obviously undercharged and stressed. His doorwings were noticeably rigid.

"Designation Spotlight, Medical Unit." the doctor announced.

"Designation Prowl." the Praxian replied. "Thank you for responding to my call."

"Not a problem. Where's the patient?"

"This way."

Prowl lead Spotlight into his surprisingly small home. There was not much decoration that Spotlight saw, but then again, he tried hard to not look like he was interested in the Chief of Police's house.

"How long has she been sick?" he asked as they stopped in front of a gray door.

"Ten cycles."

Prowl opened the door to the patient's room. The room was plain, with white walls and only a berth for furniture. Lying on said berth was a petite lilac-colored femme. Spotlight took one glance over her still body and turned back to Prowl.

With optics still focused on the femme, Prowl explained, "she has a history of viruses. Her anti-viral programs developed a glitch after a bad case of the N-Virus."

"And how long has she been carrying?"

The Chief snapped his head towards Spotlight. "_Carrying?_ She's not carrying!"

"Yes she is." Spotlight pointed at a spot on her abdomen. "See this plating here? Look. It's warmer than the rest of her body."

Prowl's processor was whirring in bewilderment. "But, if she's carrying, then...I-I'm..."

"Congrats, Chief." Spotlight said, giving him a swift pat on the shoulder. "Now would you mind helping me hook up this monitor to her?"

Prowl pressed his hand to the side of his processor. "My logic center is overheating."

Spotlight took out an energon goodie from his subspace and handed it to Prowl.

"Eat this."

"Will it help my processor?"

"No. It's for good luck."

Prowl shook his head as he ate the goodie. "You don't seem like a superstitious medic."

"Trust me, we all have our quirks."

SoSoSoSoSoSoS

"Thank you for your time, doctor."

"Not a problem. Give my best to Lilia when she comes online." Spotlight handed Prowl a small card from his subspace. His comm. link number was printed on it.

"This isn't average procedure, but then again, I'm not your average doctor. When you need help - and you _will_ - call me directly."

"I will."

**Present**

Spotlight sped past a broken and singed sign on the side of the road. The words 'City of Praxus, the Crystal Garden' were still visible, but fading. Spotlight, save the sound of his strained engine, was silent for the entire trip.

He reached the border, and there to greet him were two officers of the Praxian police. One was skinny and violet, the other big and blue. They didn't look too pleased to see him, as evident in the charging of their weapons.

"The border's closed." the blue officer barked as Spotlight transformed.

"I'm here to see Prowl."

"The Commissioner?" the violet officer inquired. "He's busy, you know, since his city just got blown to bits."

"I know that!" Spotlight snapped. "He called me in to help the injured."

"Do you have proof of that?"

"What do you need _proof_ for?"

"For all we know, you're a lying Decepticon trying to sneak in!" the blue officer shouted.

Spotlight scowled. Reaching into his subspace slowly as to not alarm the officers, he retrieved something he had not thought about in a long time. He showed the Praxians.

"That's a holo of myself and your Commissioner's family...right after I delivered his sparkling." he explained. The officers' frowns seemed to melt away.

"Can I go now?"

SoSoSoSoSoSoS

Deep inside police headquarters, Prowl paced back and forth in front of a large command screen. Small red and purple dots were scattered all over it.

"Don't worry, I'm sure he's around here somewhere." a shorter black and white mech grinned.

"I don't want him going outside. He's far to curious for his own good. He probably thinks this is _fun_." Prowl replied, still pacing.

"Give the kid some credit, man. He ain't a younglin' no more."

"Yes, but still..."

A foreign sound interrupted them. The door to the command center opened, and Prowl stopped pacing. Both officers turned their heads.

"Excuse me, Sirs." a Praxian femme bowed her head. "A doctor here to see you, Commissioner. Designation Spotlight."

"Let him in."

The femme nodded and left the room. Jazz turned to Prowl.

"Is this the same Spotlight you were talking about earlier?"

"Yes."

"The one that told the mayor to "put a sprocket in it" while he was fixin' his knee joint?"

"The same."

Jazz smirked.

Spotlight entered the room with a bright smile on his faceplate. It was an abnormal sight for the two officers to see; frowns, grimaces and blank looks usually walked through that door.

Prowl briskly shook the doctor's hand.

"Spotlight! I'm glad you arrived here safely." the Praxian grinned, and gestured to his companion. "This is Jazz, a fellow Autobot officer."

"Nice ta' meet ya, Spotlight." Jazz smiled, shaking the doctor's hand. "I've heard some...interestin' stories about you."

"Yes..." Spotlight winced. "I'm sure."

Prowl changed the subject. "I hope the guards at the border didn't give you too much trouble."

"No, nothing I couldn't deal with."

"Ha! Like you dealed with those criminals that ran into the hospital for cover by whacking them over the processor with a bucket of adhesive? Why were you holding a bucket of adhesive, anyway?"

Spotlight raised an optic ridge at Jazz.

"Who told you about that?"

Jazz's visor flickered in a certain direction, causing Spotlight to turn and look pointedly at Prowl.

"One or two stories may have slipped out over high grade." the tactician admitted.

"What else did you tell him?!" Spotlight exclaimed.

"Well,-" Jazz started, holding up a finger.

"Wait." the doctor put a hand to his forehead. "I'd be better off not knowing."

A beeping noise coming from the command screen caught their attention. Jazz walked over to it and pressed a button. The red and purple dots disappeared, and were replaced by the bust of a tan Praxian mech.

"Dune?" Prowl inquired. "What is it?"

"Commissioner! The Seekers are here...they're _everywhere_! They're dropping bombs on our campsites; we need reinforce-!"

The feed went to static. Prowl's door wings went rigid. "Dune!"

"Scrap!" Jazz exclaimed. "We gotta get out there!"

Prowl spun around to Spotlight.

"Jazz and I will go out to command the field troops. You'll stay at base clinic."

The doctor shook his head. "Let me go with you. I'll be of more help to your bots in the field." Spotlight added, "plus, I've probably patched up at least _half_ of all those bots out there from my work at the stadiums. I know their weak points."

Prowl contemplated silently. "...Stay behind us."

Later, Spotlight wished his creators hadn't sparked him with such a big mouth.

SoSoSoSoSoSoS

The sound was incredible. There had to be scores of Decepticons on the ground, and twice as many in the air. Prowl's puny team of Autobots were hardly denting their numbers. A putrid smell of bad energon hung in the air, stinging everyone's olfactory sensors. Prowl barked out orders to team leaders and their soldiers as Jazz lead the first wave of reinforcements into the fight. It was worse than he'd imagined, and Spotlight had a pretty wild imagination.

The doctor was frozen in bewilderment at the scene. Foreign noises and sights overstimulated his senses. It was as if Primus had decided to spin Cybertron faster with a flick of his cervo, and Spotlight was the only one that could tell. His peripheral vision was going black. He was stuck in place; as if the ground had a magnetic attraction to his feet. The nausea of stationary spinning seemed to double every time he thought about moving. Just two cycles ago, the thing he was most worried about was where he was going to find a new job in Iacon...how did he end up in a war zone?

Under the shelter of the command tent, Prowl consulted with the radar technician.

"It looks like another unit of at least twenty jets is on its way here, Commissioner." the technician reported, pointing at the terminal screen. Prowl nodded and turned to one of the three radio dispatchers.

"Radio Prime and inform him of our situation. Also tell him-"

"Hey, what's up with that mech?" the radar technician suddenly said, catching Prowl's attention.

"Who?" Prowl asked as he turned.

"The one over there. He's just...standing there. Is he a civilian?"

Prowl frowned at the sight. He quickly turned back to the dispatcher "Tell Prime to send in the extra team mid-cycle. I have to take care of this."

"Yes sir."

"I knew this was too much for him." he grumbled.

Prowl marched out of the tent and approached the dazed doctor.

"Spotlight!" he exclaimed.

And just like that, the world stopped spinning. "...Huh?"

"If you're going to be out here, you have to get your processor out of the atmosphere!"

"R-right. Sorry, I just...I just..."

"Are you sure you're up for this?"

"I am! I can handle it."

"Good." Prowl nodded. He pointed to a building nearby. It was still intact, but had notable surface damage. _Medi_ was painted over the doorway in bright red. "You can start by assisting our injured over there."

One of the radio dispatchers called to the Commissioner from the command tent. "Prowl! The Beta group is taking heavy fire! They need new coordinates!"

"I have to go. Don't let me down, Spotlight. I need your help now."

The doctor nodded, and Prowl returned to the command tent. Spotlight didn't waste any more time; he hightailed it to the medical station.

A Praxian medic was the only other medical unit there. He looked glad to finally receive assistance.

"Name's Drill. I could use some help with this amputation." he gestured.

The body of the mech Drill was about to amputate was cold and lifeless.

"He doesn't look functioning!" Spotlight exclaimed.

"I need this arm for that bot over there." Drill pointed. An unconscious, but still online, mech lay on a table nearby; the stub of what was left of his arm sealed in an energon-soaked suture.

Spotlight had never been in the midst of war before. Up until now, life had been peaceful; the only grievous injuries he'd had to work on were from the gladiator fights. This was an entirely different level. This right here, he realized, was what the past was preparing him for. This was his test.

Once the amputation was taken care of, a steady stream of wounded soldiers poured in. Like a drippy faucet, their arrival was never-ending and predictable. Once he was sure that Drill could handle things on his own (and also when he gathered enough courage), Spotlight decided to go out into the field and fix the leak for good.

He started out small by fixing minor injuries and the like, unless something more serious warranted his attention. He slowly worked his way deeper and deeper into the fight; he hugged close to buildings, or what was left of them, and made sure that there was an Autobot near him at all times with a big gun.

SoSoSoSoSoSoS

The sun Cybertron was currently orbiting was low on the horizon when the doctor realized that he was going in one giant circle. After finishing some minor patchwork, he found his way back to the makeshift medical center. Drill was working on Jazz's shoulder as Prowl stood nearby.

"How are you fairing, Spotlight?" Prowl asked.

"He must be doin' a damned good job; I haven't seen a serious injury since that decapitation mid-cycle." Drill quipped, slapping Jazz on the back. "All done."

"This is overwhelming." Spotlight sighed. Jazz rubbed his shoulder, eying Drill conspicuously. "I don't think I've ever worked this hard in such a small amount of time."

Prowl smiled. "Don't worry. We've taken back most of the city, and they appear to be running out of reinforcements. I don't anticipate this fight to run on much longer."

"It won't." Jazz said, hopping off the table. "My mechs got this in the bag."

Prowl, Jazz and Spotlight walked outside together. Decepticon jets were no longer visible in the sky.

"Hey, you might be right, Jazz. I don't even see-" Spotlight started.

An audio-splitting outcry reverberated through the ranks. All those who heard it froze in alarm, some even in fright.

Spotlight looked to Prowl for answers. The Commissioner nodded.

"Go," he said. "Even my spark wretched at that."

Spotlight ran out of the crumbling building, towards where he thought the sound came from. He passed Autobots and Decepticons alike, but they didn't pay much attention to him. However, that wasn't what he was focusing on. He was focused on finding the source of the cry.

In a shadowed, lonely alleyway, he found what he was looking for. A body was lying on its side in the middle of the alley. Spotlight rushed to it and knelt down. He pushed on the shoulder, and at the sight of the identity of the bot, he did a double take. Lying on his back now, chest components exposed from a laser blast, was a large gray mech just slightly older than the doctor himself...

* * *

**More Note: Ooh, he sounds familiar! ;3**

"**Strangers have the best candy."**


End file.
